what she was when she became herself
by DarkAngelOfSorrowReturns
Summary: She was a baby when she brought her legacy into the world...She was a child when she made her first mark on the world...She was a teen when she dealt with her first loss in the world...She was an adult when she declared war against the world... Warning! mild dark themes


Note: Warning, mild dark themes.

* * *

 _She was a baby when she brought her legacy into the world._

"Alfe, she's beautiful," Lir gushed. His hand was caressing the woman's shoulder, brushing her ginger hair behind her neck to look at the baby held in his wife's arms.

Her tiny fingers were curled around Alfe's pinky, wide and fresh green eyes peering at him and her mother. Her small yet chubby legs moved slowly in jagged motions, as if looking for resistance.

The tuft of ginger hair sat on top her head, and Lir thought the sight surpassed being beautiful. It was truly magical.

"She's going to change the world," Alfe stated softly. Lir couldn't help but agree as their child gave them the brightest smile she could muster.

"Morgan le Fay," Lir said with pride in his tone. "My daughter will take this world by storm. Cornwall will know our daughter's name."

* * *

 _She was a child when she made her first mark on the world._

Morgana knew she shouldn't have been out in the gardens at night. It was forbidden for anyone her age to be outside of the castle walls while the kingdom was at war, but that didn't stop the young girl from slipping out of her guards' grasps and hiding in the tall flowers the royal gardens possessed.

She would lay in the patches colored in red, pink, and yellow, staring at the stars and their patterns. In the distance, the rustling and clanging sounds from the knights moving from the battle camps would fill her ears. It was a routine that she'd gotten used in her thirst for adventure.

Though something changed that night. The usual noises that the knights would produce were gone. It was replaced with yells and screams.

Alarmed, Morgana sat up from her spot in the flowers; the sounds were closer than before. Her mind told her to run, but her body was rooted to the area.

There was a thud and metal scraping, and her curiosity got the better of her. Moving to get a better look at where the source of the sound was coming from, Morgana gasped at what she found lying in the grass.

His armor had practically been stripped from his body, leaving him open to wounds and injuries. There was a large gash on his abdomen, blood gushing profusely from it. His body was twisted in horrible ways, one would think he was a puppet no longer being held up by his strings.

Morgana approached the knight tentatively, hands shaking as she walked towards him. He coughed harshly, causing Morgana to nearly jump out of her skin. She took deep breaths. ' _I have to do something,'_ she thought as she moved as quickly as her small legs would take her.

It wasn't long before she reached the dying knight, and she pressed her hands over his fatal wound. Her hands were painted in his blood, and she should have cried and ran away.

But she didn't. Morgana had to do _something_.

"You have to survive," she said, her voice shaking in the end. Tears threatened to spill down her cheeks as she pressed on the gash harder. "Please! You _have_ to survive!"

Death wasn't uncommon to Morgana; she would listen to her father's stories for as long as her ears would allow it. However, to see it before her eyes at that moment was startling. A horror that would be permanently be engraved in her mind.

Morgana squeezed her eyes shut, a tear escaping down her cheek as she tried to concentrate on making the man heal somehow. She'd been learning basic spells from her tutor, but nothing was coming to mind.

It didn't need to. There was a warmth between her fingers that wasn't there before. Fearing that it was more blood, Morgana opened one eye cautiously. She was pleased to find a bright light underneath her palms, and it was closing the large gash on the man. The blood remained, but Morgana could no longer feel any torn flesh.

She did it. She actually healed the knight somehow. Satisfaction and relief rushed through Morgana, and she leaned against the knight. Morgana heard a rough "thank you," and she stayed there at the knight's side.

They weren't found until dawn, and by that time the knight had completely been healed of his injuries. Morgana was then recognized as one of Cornwall's most powerful healers before she even reached ten years old.

* * *

 _She was a teen when she dealt with her first loss in the world._

It was an illness they said; an illness is responsible for taking her mother's life. It was something so miniscule, yet Morgana couldn't save her from it.

The ceremony for her mother began and ended in a blur. She couldn't remember anything past the stony looks on the other attendants' faces. Showing emotion was apparently frowned upon because not even her father would shed a tear for his own wife.

Morgana thought it was disrespectful as hell. This woman gave her life, gave her everything, and she couldn't even cry like she wanted.

After everything was said and done, Morgana laid next to the stone that held her mother's name and title. She ran a hand along the cool rock.

"You're only sleeping, Mother," Morgana said softly. "I'll be here when you wake up once more."

She could feel the tears finally ready to fall, but she was rudely interrupted by one of her father's handmaidens from the kingdom. One of his current concubines no doubt.

"When people are sleeping, let them sleep!" the handmaiden hissed, mockery in her tone as she left Morgana to the gravestone.

Morgana didn't stand from her position at the grave. In fact, she didn't respond to the woman who tried to pry the teen away from her mother's burial plot.

As her grip on the stone tightened, the light in her eyes died and the coldness in her heart grew. Her mother was gone now, leaving her alone with her father and his demands. Nothing could change that. _She_ couldn't change that. Knowing that she didn't save her mother would haunt her forever.

* * *

 _She was an adult when she declared war against the world._

Morgana was not sure how her father could change as much as he did. He used to be loving, inspiring, and encouraging. Now the only thing that was left of him was the shell of a man filled with lead. His actions were barbaric, sending his men out for suicide missions against the larger armies of their enemies. He wouldn't see reason from his advisors. Concubines were in and out of his bedchambers, and the sight was disgusting to Morgana.

Executions switched from the guillotine to hangings, and there was no room for arguments. All of this, Morgana was willing to accept as he was still her father. That is, until his grooming for Morgana to become the proper heir was put to the test.

Her teachings weren't a problem; she was one of the most powerful women to ever bless Cornwall. She had the grace of a lady and the fight of a warrior, everything that was required of an heir. Yet he wanted to choose who she married. It was custom and tradition, but Morgana wanted to make her own choice.

Her father wasn't trying to give her that. She had found someone to chip away at the ice formed around her heart, except her father didn't allow it. He threatened her about her lover.

If her father had known about the heir that Morgana was bearing, then her lover would be dead on sight.

Morgana tried to hide it for as long as she could, but someone had leaked the information out to the public somehow. _Her father knew_. Morgana tried to make it to her lover in their secret place to warn him of the consequences, but it was too late.

There were guards there, one holding either side of her lover's arms. He gave her a rueful smile, one that she could not return. She could not smile at the sight before her. His clothes were unkempt on his body, keeping the defined muscles she knew he had obscured. His blond hair was dirty, as if he was dragged on the ground before being held like this.

"Philip…"

"The secret is not so secret, love," he said weakly before he was rammed in the stomach with one of the guard's sword handles.

"Leave him alone!" Morgana snapped, her hair rising in anger. She'd be damned if she allowed these men to take the one joy she'd had since her mother's death.

"That is enough, men," came the deep, threatening voice of her father.

Morgana stiffened, her glare intense as he strolled in casually. The air around the man was high and threatening; she would not bow down. She had more to lose than ever before.

"You cannot do this," Morgana hissed. "I deserve to have a choice!"

"I gave you the choice to obey!" her father thundered. "And you did not make the right decision."

Morgana didn't want to play the card that she was going to play, but it was her last hope. She couldn't lose Philip or her child.

"You wouldn't dare harm the bloodline. The bloodline that he now shares."

Her words spoke volumes throughout the small cottage. Philip looked at her with love in his blue eyes while the remaining men were shocked and silent. Morgana felt relief, knowing that her father wouldn't hurt her in such a way.

She was very, very wrong.

"Kill him."

Morgana felt the wind knocked out of her lungs. He couldn't. He _wouldn't_. Everything moved in slow motion. Her feet felt like lead as she tried to reach for Philip. She felt her father's hands gripping her shoulders, holding her in place.

The witch flailed, watching as the guard fatally stabbed her lover. She wouldn't be able to save him like the others she'd healed. Her father made sure of it.

He also made sure that he'd have an enemy until his ashes were blown away with the wind. When Philip dropped lifelessly to the ground, Morgana was released from her father's hold, and she crawled towards him.

Tears spilled down her face as she held the body of her lover in her arms. She lost someone dear to her yet again, and it was at the hands of someone she once loved.

"That _bastard_ you bear will be dealt with," her father spat, breaking her out of grief before leaving with his men.

Morgana's tears turned from sadness to rage. How _dare_ he call her child a bastard? He or she would be more of a leader than her father _ever_ would be.

"No, Father," Morgana said in a cold tone, despite her father already gone. " _You_ will be dealt with. The traitor who gave away my secrets and everyone else who has crossed me will be dealt with. I will show no mercy for anyone who gets in my way."

The ground began to shake in her rage as she rocked with her lover against her child.

"You've made a grave mistake, Father, and your world will suffer for it."

* * *

 **A/N: Written for HSWW (Challenges and Assignments) and QLFC**

 **(QLFC) Team** : Wigtown Wanderers; **Position** : Chaser 1; **Prompt** : your story should be inspired by the prompt: Tamagotchi (used the life cycle); **Additional Prompts** : (word) barbaric, (word) horror, (word) grave

 **(HSWW) Assignment #11 Notable Witches and Wizards Task 2** : write about Morgan le Fay

 **Word Count** : 1,871


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